


Rene Withstanding, Part 1: The Carta

by OsytheUnderSiege



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dwarf, Dwarven Carta (Dragon Age), F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:12:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OsytheUnderSiege/pseuds/OsytheUnderSiege
Summary: A surface born orphan thief finds herself in the Carta. Austere and resolute, Rene navigates the streets in a three person team focused on pushing Lyrium and selling secrets, life is ordinary until she meets a roguish smuggler and finds herself in the center of a Kirkwall conspiracy. Rated M for Mature, violence and sexual themes.





	1. Prologue and Chapter 1

_ Skyhold 9:41 Dragon _

 

**Prologue**

 

“You know Inquisitor, it's hard to convince me you don’t like to play wicked grace when you keep that worn deck of cards in your pocket.” Varric’s grin widens from across the tavern table.

 

Sera picks at her teeth casually then nods, “right? Sometimes when none are looking at night in camp, you shuffle them.”

 

My mug hesitates at my lips as I look into its mouth and reply, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

 

“Right, and melons don’t go squish when dropped from the roof,” Sera jives motioning an exaggerated explosion with her hands. She giggles in delight.

 

Varric deals his cards. Bull shifts his eye from Sera to me, noting my stiff disposition he says, “hey Sera, weren’t you meeting that redhead from the undercroft?” He rolls his tongue in a suggestive growl.

 

“Oh right, see ya Inky,” she slides from her chair and proceeds to crawl under the table to leave.

 

Varric shakes his head and adds her cards back into the deck.  Bull’s green eye lingers on two kitchen girls that pass by carrying dishes, giggling amongst themselves. He smirks then raising from the table says, “actually boss, raincheck on drinks I gotta go.”

 

“Later Tiny,” Varric waves the giant Qunari away then turns his attention to me, the remaining person at the table.

 

“Don’t bother Tethras, I’m not interested in becoming your next story,” I shoot him a discouraging glare.

 

He shakes his head with denial, “what? I didn’t even get a chance to ask,” he collects my untouched cards back into his deck.  “Listen, you don’t pry about the crossbow, so I won’t pry about the cards, but if you want to tell that story I’m here.” I scowl in response, prompting him to add, “and I won’t write it down.”

 

A rigid smile pulls the corner of my mouth. “thanks,” I respond unconvinced, “but some tales don’t need told.”

 

He shuffles the cards together and with his attention focused on the small fluttering rectangles of paper he answers, “those are exactly the stories that should be told.”

  
  


PART I: THE CARTA

 

_ “Despite the flow of business, its members are still desperate and violent. With no strong leader to rein in their excesses, they have little sense of dwarven honor, and freely break their word, double-cross allies, and renege on deals.” _

_   
_ _ —From The Stone and Her Children: Dwarves of the Dragon Age, by Brother Genitivi _

  
  


**~Chapter 1~**

 

_ Westhill 9:33 Dragon _

 

“You won't make it very far on your own Salraka,” Fedrig’s gruff voice grates at my back. 

 

Ignoring him I walk with steady steps through the tavern doors.  Fedrig has screwed me over too many times to waste a final glance at him. He expects me to return in a few hours, this isn’t the first time I’ve ran away.  Each time he lets me slip, like a cat playing with a mouse, confident my weakness will have me crawling back home.  Not this time, I’ve made friends in dark places too and even at 13 I can handle myself. I circle into the back alley where Ishri is waiting for me. 

 

She stands with crossed arms leaning casually against the wall, her golden eyes gleam in the moonlight as she greets me with a suave smirk, “I thought you'd change your mind kid.”

 

I toss her the small leather pouch I pinched off my uncle earlier that day, the coins clink as she catches it, “count me in,” I say as if I've done this many times. 

 

She smiles and folds the pouch into her thin belt then hits me with a skeptical side glance, “there's no going back Rene, the Carta is for life.”

 

“Consider me warned,” I answer, my eyes unwavering on hers. I don't favor her mocking disposition toward me but it drives me to prove her wrong. All my life I've been beaten down being told I’m nothing by my uncle. Night after night it was the same, a room filled with the smell of moldy beer and his sweaty greasy hands of rage as he hit me, screaming, “you owe everything to me you useless Brand.” I stopped crying over it by the time I was 6. Finding out he wasn't really my uncle helped subside the sadness at first, it justified why he didn't love me. For a few years I naively entertained that my real parents would find me. Time wised me and all that remained was burning anger. The coins I pilfered off shoppers in the market kept his cup full, as long as I could get enough for him to pass out from that piss ale he would leave me alone. I was good at stealing, until I stole from Fedrig, a merchant guild dwarf that caught my frail arm at his purse and offered mercy.  I thought he was my salvation. The relief of becoming his apprentice was quickly replaced with resentment as he constantly used me as a scapegoat for failed deals, and sometimes bait for distasteful bribes to perverts dwelling in the underbelly of the city. I never expected anyone to save me.  Then a month ago the Carta had a deal with Fedrig, and I was delivered as the payoff to the third party, some Orlesian slime that favored young girls. Ishri introduced herself to me by stabbing him after he took me into the back alley hovel to claim his pay. In my panic the young Carta agent became my angel of rescue.  She pulled me out from under the bleeding Orlesian and told me I was tough, that I could be Carta material. Even still, I don’t know why she vouched for me to join. Regardless of her seemingly selfless act, everybody always wants something, there's always a motive, I haven't determined what hers is yet, but it has to be better than staying here. “I'm

in,” I declare without a second thought. 

 

“Alright then,” she runs her hand through her long black hair to pull it away from her eyes, “let's go.”

 

~~~~~~~ 

 

_ Highever, 2 Months Later _

 

Ishri winks at me from across the table as she pushes a small pouch over the surface to the nervous Templar, “here's a sample of what we can offer. Consider this one on the house.”

 

His arrid eyes take in the bag and a clumsy hand collects it into his faded tunic. 

 

She flashes him a perfect smile, “I'll be here tomorrow same time, same place. Have what we agreed on in the drop and I'll bring more treats.”

 

The Templar slowly nods then looking about as if to escape unnoticed he sinks away from the table.

 

“And it's that easy?” I ask, watching him disappear through the back door of the dingy Highever tavern. 

 

She spins a coin on the table, “yep, honest this job is so easy it almost loses its fun. They can't do without it so the dust sells itself.” She slaps her hand on top of the coin, “just remember to always keep the upper hand. Stay confident, calm, and always in control.” My Jaw clenches at her teasing tone as her golden eyes play over me.

 

“You don't think I can do it do you?” I accuse, my tone gruff.

 

“Oh sweet thing I know you can, we just have to get you started. And your temper, we need to point that somewhere else.  You don't have to hit everything to make it go your way, you know.” She spins the coin so it swirls over to me, “Now, are you ready?”

 

“I've been watching you work in this dump for the last two months, what do you think?” I flick the coin to divert it back to her. 

 

She grins wide as it hits her hand then slowly topples from side to side before landing on the sticky table, “alright, let's go.”

 

~~~~~~~

_ Highever 9:35 Dragon _

 

My ax sinks into his soft face, I grin straddling my fresh kill.  Blood slides from the blade as I pull it upward, then cry out and drive it down into the unrecognizable features of what was once a person’s head. 

 

“Hey hey,” Ishri snakes her hand around my waist from behind, “he’s dead Rene, stop.” Her soft voice cuts through my rage, breathing heavily I flick my ax clean then slide it into my belt.

 

“And the product?” I turn my head to her chin on my shoulder just inches from mine, I can smell the mead we drank just a half hour before still on her breath.

 

“We got it,” she smiles, grazing her hand over my collarbone then tucking it into my shirt pocket, “c’mon, let’s go.”

 

“Hell of a lot of trouble for a rock,” I mutter, stepping over the half dozen bodies to walk beside her.

 

She slides me her usual sly glance, “people kill for less. I’m just glad we found an outlet for all that beautiful anger you have.”

 

I sneer, “whatever, Hosk is an alright teacher, but he drones on too much about Orzammar and what it means to be warrior caste. He goes on and on about how a surfacer like me will never have stonesense.”

 

She laughs and threads her arm into mine as though I am escorting her on to a ballroom floor, “he’s a Cadash, they pride themselves on being from a former warrior caste straight from Orzammar, but he's a surfacer just like us, he can’t go back. He says good things about you though, says you can really take a hit, you don’t even flinch, even when you know you’re bested.”

 

“If he hit harder maybe I would,” I boast even though my shoulder still aches and tender bruises run across my legs and ribs from our last session. 

 

She stops to let me enter the tavern door ahead of her, “he doesn’t usually give out praise like that, kid.”

 

I pull my arm up past her head taking the door from her to trap her between me and the moldy wood. I look down and declare with quiet confidence, “I’m not a kid anymore Ishri.”

 

A rare look of surprise spreads over her face as she looks up at me, “no, you aren’t.” She gracefully ducks under my arm to escape, “and when did you get so tall? when I found you 2 years ago, you only came to my chin!”

 

“Things change,” I smile letting the door close behind us. It occurs to me like a small whisper how important to me she’s become.  In a whimsical moment I silently declare that I will protect her always, like she has protected me. I dismiss my pointless thoughts as she guides us over to our usual table.

 

We sit in comfortable silence as Flic brings us our drinks.

 

“My ladies,” he shows his array of missing teeth and sets down our mugs. As Ishri tosses him a coin he smirks, “Ishri you beautiful thing, share my bed tonight.”

 

She rolls her eyes and gives me the “I-could-kill-this-creep-but-he-entertains-me” look I’ve come to expect in these situations. She responds with a flirtatious sneer, “now you know already Flic, I don't sleep with elves, now run along and fetch us some food.”

 

He slides away walking backwards as he answers, “well, when you change your mind...”

 

“Do you ever tire of the attention?” I ask with a sigh, resting my chin on my palm in mock swooning.

 

She flicks her chin up at me, “you know you are plenty pretty, you'd have some potential if you showed off your chest and let that lovely red hair grow some. If you wanted you could get just as much attention ya know.”

 

I puff my chest out and deepen my voice, “we both know that isn’t going to happen.” She laughs so I continue, “besides I’m the muscle here, you’ve got all that seduction game figured don’t need me in a skirt.”

 

She giggles with me then says, “if I saw you in a dress I would assume you are sending me a code signal that we are in major trouble.”

 

I lift my glass to hers and answer, “I’ll have to keep one in my pack in case the occasion should arise!”

 

Our laughter is interrupted as Brecken twirls a chair over to our table, he sits on it backwards with his wrists hanging down the back, “there isn’t supposed to be this much fun in the Carta, not unless I’m involved.” 

 

There is a prickle of unexpected anger in my chest as he props himself onto the table meeting Ishri for an exaggerated open mouth kiss.  I down my drink and slam it on the table causing them both to look up at me.

 

“Easy Rene, you break that cup and you’ll have to pay for it,” his smile sickens me from under his sapphire blue eyes. I've never liked our leader and have done little to hide it. My obvious distaste for him seems to encourage his snide remarks. 

 

“Whatever Brecken, I’m out, I need to take care of this,” I pat my chest where Ishri passed the lyrium rock into my pocket.

 

She looks up at me, “alone?”

 

“Why not,” my voice is harsh, “I can handle it.”

 

Her expression is relaxed as she plays her fingers over Brecken’s palms, “yes, I know you can.”


	2. Chapter 2

**~Chapter 2~**

 

_ Kirkwall: 9:36 Dragon _

 

Brecken glares at me with disdain, “you won't always be lucky squirt, you should have let Ishri handle it!”

 

I scoff, “whatever.” My anger covers my fear as I search the Lowtown crowds. Finally I spot her and nearly jump into the street. 

 

Her face shows no sign of concern as she joins us, “well, that could have gone better, did you deliver it?” She asks me, ignoring our leader’s glare.

 

Brecken throws his hand up dismissively, “barely, she nearly got both of us killed, I'm in charge of this operation, you'd both do well to remember that.”

 

I sneer at him, then snap my attention back to Ishri, “are you alright?”

 

She smirks and picks at my collar under my shoulder plate, “naturally.”

 

Inpatient Brecken starts toward the docks, “enough time wasted, it’s nearly dark, let's go.”

 

I grab Ishri’s hand to slow her pace and lean in lowering my voice, “I didn't think that through, you weren't bait.”

 

Her smile assures me, “I know, things run a bit hotter in Kirkwall, it's new for both of us, let's just report in. We were successful, whatever Brecken says, that is all that matters.”

 

I nod and then follow silent, keeping my eyes open for any sign we are being followed. 

 

“Hey,” Ishri whispers over her shoulder, “over by that potion vender.”

 

“I see him,” I whisper back, my hand laying on my ax. 

 

The young dwarf’s eyes are hidden in his hood as he leans against the wall, but I feel them following us. 

 

“A Guilder runner,” Brecken declares quietly, “let's lose him.”

 

He leads us around a sharp corner into a back alley way. The hooded figure has disappeared from his wall and must be in pursuit. 

 

“Go on,” I place the pay bag in Ishri’s hands, “I'll take care of this.”

 

They move on ahead and I pull my ax, turning to search for our pursuer. A few dock hands unload crates but take no notice of me. It would appear Kirkwall is familiar with violence in the streets and they know better than to interfere. They carry their cargo around the corner and leave me alone between the sandstone buildings. Through the darkness of the night I scan the corners. 

 

“Just come out and let's finish this!” I call out impatient with his hiding. Pebbles fall from the roof to my left, I snap my attention waiting for the assailant to appear when a sting strikes the back of my neck like a wasp. A black cape flutters over me as I clumsily swing my ax through blurred vision, my limbs going numb as I clatter to the ground.

 

~~~~~~~

 

“There was nothing on him, the other one either,” I hear in the distance as I awake to the smell of a dank room. I sit up to four dirt walls and the heat of melting metal. My ax and shield are missing and my hands are bound behind my back. 

 

A second voice trails, “are you sure this was the right target?”

 

“He was with two others, they may have taken it.”

 

My eyes adjust to the darkness and I struggle with the ropes on my hands. They missed my boot dagger, I shuffle my foot attempting to get to it, silently cursing my lack of flexibility. 

 

“Resistance will go badly for you,” a confident whisper reaches me from the other side of the room. I squint to make out the shape, the hooded figure from before. “They kill for sneezing around here. Just stay put. I have a plan.”

 

With anger I whisper back, “and why should I trust you?”

 

“You shouldn't.” The teeth exposed from his smile glimmer with what little torch light seeps through the darkness.  He continues in a whisper, “Listen, there's four of them guarding this foundry. Based on the smell I would say we haven't left the docks. Come here and I'll get that dagger out of your boot.”

 

“No,” I protest, “you tell me your angle here.”

 

He hisses air through his teeth in amusement, “You first.”

 

“My business is my own,” I grunt. I'm wasting my time talking to him, but I can't get the weapon. “Fine, but if you double cross me I'll crush your skull with my bare hands,” I threaten wiggling toward him.

 

“That's perfectly reasonable,” he leans his back down on my boot. “Just one question, are you Carta or Merchant’s Guild?”

 

“You assume because I'm a dwarf I belong to one? Maybe I'm just a sight seer.” 

 

“Right, me too, the summer view of the sun over the Kirkwall gallows is one of a kind, it really captures the majestic beauty of the giant chains,” he saws my dagger across his ropes. “They are a surfacer sect from Orzammar, we've obviously gotten caught up in a misunderstanding, and we've been mistaken as agents loyal to Harrimont. Bhelen has been snuffing them out since he took the throne.”

 

“Whatever, let's just get out,” I demand shaking my hands at him. 

 

He slices my ropes, then commands, “stay here until I can find you something to fight with, I'm borrowing this,” he tucks my dagger in his belt. 

 

I growl through clenched teeth, “I don't take orders from you.” I look about the room and find a chair in the corner. I turn it on its side and kick it to free one of the legs. Twirling it around I order, “let's go.”

 

We quietly follow the edge of the wall to the main room, two soldiers in ornate armor sit at a table playing cards. 

 

My newfound companion tosses me a nod then sprints to the railing, in a fluid motion he throws my dagger into the neck of one of them. I charge down the stairs as the second guy pulls a sword. I dodge his swing and club him in the side of the head with my stick, it splinters on impact. The hooded figure retrieves my dagger and stabs it into the eye of my discombobulated victim. I grab the dead man’s sword and scan the room. 

 

“Come,” he grabs my hand. 

 

I pull out of his grasp like I dropped my hand in the foundry's melted metal, “I see the way out.”

 

I'm relieved to see my ax propped beside the door, I grasp it as we step out into the night. We snake through the buildings until we reach an alleyway covered in tarps stretched between the buildings. 

 

“That was too easy, I was sure there were four,” he notes with skepticism peering out of our hiding place, “I haven't seen you before, are you new to Kirkwall? I saw you narrowly escape those smugglers, you should-”

 

I grab the back of his cloak and throw him against the wall, my ax blade to his throat I demand, “now answers. Who are you and why did you attack me?”

 

The moonlight lends just enough light to reveal his playful gray eyes, “a bit fast since we just met, but I can work with this, I like it rough,” his lack of fear and incessant teasing increases my anger. A thin line of blood forms as I press my ax into his neck. “Alright,” he sighs, “my name is Nolan, honest, I didn't attack, I was on business and mistook your party for trouble. Saying anything more would put you in danger.”

 

With my blade steady I stare him down but his resolve doesn't falter. “Fine,” I concede. 

 

A complacent grin spreads over his lips, “excellent, now,” his eyes scan off to the side and downward, “will you put me down?”

 

“Don't try anything.” I loosen my grip, allowing him to slide back to the ground. 

 

Shaking his cape free of dust he asks, “Now, in return might I know your name?”

 

I push my ax back into my belt, “I'm not interested in making friends.” I reclaim my boot dagger from his belt.

 

He calls after me, “in Kirkwall everyone needs friends. Should you change your mind-”

 

“I won't,” I reply, staying my course.

 

~~~~~~~

 

“Damn it Rene,” Ishri’s eyes pierce me as I walk into the Hanged man. 

 

Brecken, already dazed from his ale, scoffs, “so you finally showed up.”

 

I toss the sword I took on the table, “for you,” I tell Brecken then sink into the worn wood chair, “I could use a drink.” Disregarding Ishri’s prying eyes I add, “so everything smooth over at the docks?”

 

“More or less,” Brecken answers with limited interest on the sword. He swirls his finger over the lip of his mug until the partially dressed barmaid struts past, his upper lip curls, “I gotta piss.”

 

Once he stumbles out of earshot Ishri leans over the table, “tell me what happened?”

 

“A misunderstanding,” my answer is intentionally vague as I sip the warm foul liquid.

 

She slaps the cup from my hand and the murky brew splatters across the splotched floor. 

 

“What the hell?” I stand slamming my hands on the table.

 

“Don't bullshit me,” she raises her voice, she points to the sword and whispers, “I know the seal on that.” 

 

I roll my eyes and report, “Our follower was a mystery, I was detained by some lackeys from Orzammar, they are dead, I'm here. What's your problem?”

 

She grits her teeth then spins from the table, “forget it. I'm going to bed.”

 

Frustrated I kick her chair then down the rest of my drink. 


	3. Chapter 3

**~Chapter 3~**

 

_ Darktown 9:36 Dragon _

 

“Three weeks here and I still can't find my way around,” I complain. 

 

Ishri leads us down the pungent walkways of filth and rot of Darktown like we are on a pleasant Sunday stroll, “don't worry, I know exactly where we are,” she winks over her shoulder. 

 

Elves in rags cower in the corners and avoid eye contact as we go by. 

 

“Let's just find Tomwise and get out of here, I need food.” I scan his usual dingy table but the elf isn't there. 

 

Ishri taps the table smiling at some urchins running by, “we are early, be patient.”

 

I lean on the wall crossing my arms, “I hate waiting.”

 

“On time as usual,” the dark haired elf emerges from around the corner, “your order is ready.” He places it into Ishri’s hands, “and take care not to drop it,” he warns with playful caution. 

 

I pull the pouch from my belt and toss it with a small clunk onto his table, “the final payment as promised.”

 

His lithe fingers gather the bag into his tunic, “pleasure as always, come back again.”

 

“Hey Rene,” ishri’s voice is hushed as she circles us into a secluded corner. Assuming she saw something suspicious I reach for my ax. Her hand stops mine as she sighs, “listen, we could leave.”

 

“What? Not right now, we have to finish this drop before sunset,” I respond.

 

“No,” she frowns, “I mean,” she leans in close looking up at me then whispers, “leave the Carta.”

 

Shocked I shake my head, “what are you drunk? the Carta is for life.”

 

She stalls, an unfamiliar light in her eyes, then in a moment it's gone. She replies defeated, “never mind, forget I said anything.”

 

As she turns to walk away I grip her arm, she spins her head to look back at me. Concerned I ask, “Have you said this to anyone else, Brecken?”

 

Her muscles relax, “no, obviously I didn't tell our slimy boss. You are the only one I trust, it’ll always be you and me kid.”

 

Stunned I stand motionless. My chest swells then I remind myself that Ishri is a master of manipulation.  I cannot risk vulnerability to anyone, especially her. I drop my hand and walk forward, “Let's just finish this drop.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

In just a short couple months the Hanged Man has slowly started to feel like home, there is a sense of relief as we pass over its rotting threshold. 

 

“I've been dreaming of this drink all day,” I slump into the corner chair of our table holding my frothing mug. 

 

Ishri swirls her idle finger in the brown liquid of her cup, “I'm tired, I'm just going to go to bed.” Satisfied with her whirlpool she slides her finger into her mouth to clean it, even without conscious effort she manages a seductive poise in all her movements. “You handle the contact.”

 

I shrug in response and wave the waitress for another drink. At the bar a scantily dressed Rivanian woman slams her cup into the face of a greasy mercenary man whose hands wandered where they were apparently not wanted. 

 

“You bitch,” he draws a rusty mace from his belt. Before he can swing she drives a dagger into his forearm, pinning it to the table. 

 

His weapon falls to the ground and blood drips from the wound as her dark eyes mock, “you poor sweet thing, now move along,” she sends a kick to his groin while simultaneously  retrieving her blade. She casually turns to the bar for a fresh drink as though nothing had happened. With her stagnate mead comfortably in hand she saunters to my table. 

 

“You don't seem like you are looking for company,” I answer dryly from my cup.

 

“No, but I think you are,” her tone is flirtatious. Annoyed I glance up to her dark eyes. 

 

“You aren't my type,” I answer coldly. 

 

She smirks and leans into the table resting her chin in her hands, her cleavage billowing onto the surface, “what if I said we had an appointment.”

 

I set my cup down, “I was expecting someone else.”

 

“I know,” she smiles holding the merchant guild ring required to identify my contact, “someone shorter.”

 

Cautiously I grip my ax under the table, “it's unusual for a human to have a dwarven signet ring, been taking things that don't belong to you?”

 

“Hardly.” She sips her drink, “if you must know,” she presses the ring back into her breasts, “its owner is too busy fluttering around the city to meet with you, he sends his gravest apologies. Now, to business then. Do you want what I have or not?”

 

With this sudden change of plan I wish Ishri was here, she's better at these games. With a forced slyness I return, “I’ve got the information requested, but it depends. What do you have?”

 

“Oh you are simply adorable. Let's just make this easy,” she runs her hand through her black hair, “I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

Brecken’s hand slams into the back of my head, “you little shit.”

 

I spin around in fury, jamming my elbow into his jaw, “the hell?” I grit my teeth and pounce on him, swinging my fists into his shoulders. 

 

“Bitch!” He growls as his knee jabs my stomach, followed by a hard double fisted blow to the head. My face hits hot on the sandy ground. He jumps onto my back penning my hands behind me. I twist but cannot move under his pressure. He presses my cheek into the road, quietly he hisses in my ear, “you take orders from me. Don't EVER work behind my back again. Next time,” his thumb slides from my temple down to the corner of my mouth, “I'll kill you.”

 

He kicks my side and I breath deeply as his footsteps echo, leaving me alone in the dark alleyway of the Lowtown bizarre. I get to my feet, spit blood to the side, then with frustration fueled fury punch at the stone building repeatedly. 

 

“Hey, doing that might hurt the wall,” a vaguely familiar voice detracks me. 

 

“What do you want?” I snarl to the bloody wall, angry at having a witness. 

 

Nolan’s voice plays at my back, “I was in the neighborhood and thought it would be rude not to say hello.” His hood is down, revealing short dark curls. “Got a few minutes? I could use help carrying this,” he lifts a small crate toward me in offering. I recognize the symbol on the box. 

 

“You are the one making the drop?” I inquire flatly.

 

He steps closer, “oh no, we should use code it's more fun that way, feels more like a game, less like midnight illegal activities.” He clears his throat then drops his voice, “the grey nug is in the basket.” 

 

I let out a frustrated sharp exhale, “you must be deficient at reading maps. The location is up a few blocks.”

 

“Yet you're here too?” His focus bounces to my hand.

 

With reluctance I admit, “I'm not your contact tonight.”

 

His smile remains but doesn't reach his eyes as he replies, “Maybe not, but you are covered in blood.”

 

“It's not mine,” I lie, “I killed the last smart ass who passed through here.”

 

His grin widens, “evidently.” Taking a step closer to me he pulls a small cloth from his side. His eyes scan from my bloodied hand back to my face, his expression a mix of interest and concern, “here.” He offers it to me. 

 

My fingers twitch then I curl them into a fist at my side. “I'm busy,” I grunt.

 

“Me too,” he taps the box with his offered cloth still in his hand, “but if you get less busy, I know a better place than the Hanged Man to get a drink.” He pushed the cloth into my palm. 

 

I scowl and walk past him, blood soaking the cloth as I tighten my grip around it. 

  
  


~~~~~~~

  
  


“What happened?” Ishri’s eyes are hard on the gouge in my forehead, my attempts to clean the blood away during my short walk back were insufficient. There's no hiding my brawl with Brecken from her anyways. 

 

I shrug and sit at the table in her room, “nothing. Has Brecken returned yet, he sent me back early.”

 

She brings a rag to my forehead and I flinch away, “don't fuss,” she commands and dabs at the wound. “You need to be more careful,” she looks to my raw knuckles and I slide my hand off the table.

 

“I'm invincible,” I smile but my teasing is wasted on her unamused countenance. 

 

She licks her thumb and uses it to smooth down one of my stray hairs, “none of us are. Don't be careless.”

 

Brecken saunters into the room slamming his shield onto the ground. He pats Ishri’s butt as he passes by her, then lays with his arms behind his head on the bed. He smells of cheap ale. “Ladies,” he smirks but his eyes challenge me. My jaw clenches. “Success as usual. The next drop is just a message run, no brains needed,” his lips twist into a pleased grin, “I'm sending the squirt.”

 

My blood rushes as I kick the chair out behind me, I sprint to him but Ishri steps to stop me. “Wait Rene!” She calls and circles her arms around my middle, her cheek lays against my back as she pleads, “let it go.”

 

Brecken chuckles and moves casually to a seated position. “How about it then, just let her go Ishri. She needs taught another lesson.”

 

“Drop it,” Ishri calls to him, swirling around so I am behind her petite frame. 

 

“This is bullshit.” I spit, “I'm not putting up with is anymore, and neither should you!”

 

“Let's go for a walk,” Ishri grabs my fist, urging me to the door. 

 

“No,” Brecken’s voice is low and hoarse, “she goes, you stay Ishri.” He removes his belt, “or she can stay and watch, I don't care.” 

 

“Go Rene please,” she whispers and pushes me out, closing the door. 

 

My ears throbbing with anger I hesitate at the dark wood slab. I will kill him. 


	4. Chapter 4

**~Chapter 4~**

 

_ 1 Month Later _

 

“What's this,” I ask skeptical at the wide package Ishri brings into her room, “it'll be hard to discreetly travel with that. Hope the drop is at night.”

 

She smiles and leans it on the table next to me, “it's for you silly.”

 

My ax hesitates on the whetstone, “me?”

 

“Every warrior that turns 16 needs one.”

 

“Ha, ok, my birthday isn't for another 2 months.”

 

She rolls her eyes and sits across from me, “just open it.”

 

I pull the thin crate at the edges until the nails release revealing my gift. Despite the childlike delight flailing in my chest I calmly remark, “a shield.”

 

“It's not much but it's sturdy, merchant said it was from Orzammar. It's to protect you.”

 

My cheeks grow hot as my hand glances over the surface, a decent size, angular and thick. “Thank you.” I mutter. 

 

She pulls her long hair back to tie it, a few rebellious strands kiss her shoulders, “well then, we've got a Templar reject in need of a fix, shouldn't keep the client waiting!”

 

“No,” I smile standing, my shield comfortable on my arm, “that would be rude.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

_ 1 Week Later _

 

The young mage’s eyes linger on me, “and this is all they sent?”

 

“Just give me your letter,” I demand.

 

“Fine,” he hisses, handing me a scroll. 

 

“A pleasure,” I respond sarcastically. His dirty robes drag along the dusty ground as he lurks away.

 

I roll my head to Ishri, “the Mage and Templar tensions are giving me a headache, it's gotten worse the last couple weeks.”

 

“Yea, but t's good for business,” she slides the scroll from my grasp and tucks it in her belt. “Now next order of business, someone has been sticking their hands where they don't belong.” She wags her finger disciplining the air, “we've been asked to remove some fingers.”

 

“My ax likes the sound of that.”

 

She smiles, “Brecken is probably still passed out under some barmaid.”

 

“We’re better off without him,” I reply, “how can the Carta be so clueless to what a moron he is?”

 

She giggles, “yes well, it's our job to make him look good. Besides, it's better if it's just you and me, with another leader we wouldn't have as much freedom.”

 

“That's one way to look at it,” my answer is dull, “he should pay us more instead of wasting it all at the tavern.”

 

“That would be nice.” She grins but our years together have taught me to see through her poor attempt to cover her lingering sadness.

 

~~~~~~~

 

After a couple of hours of scanning the proposed drop area without any result I yawn, “the source is dry.”

 

“Just be patient,” she commands in a whisper. She wrinkles her nose, “They've obviously been tipped off about us.”

 

My eyes search the corners of the buildings for the thousandth time, “Brecken’s probably noticed we’re gone, let's just go.”

 

“Fine,” she sighs. As she stands four humans appear from around the corner. 

 

Their eyes barely visible within their wrapped faces they pull daggers and head toward us. 

 

“Go!” I shout pushing her behind me.

 

“There's too many!” She calls out as a second fleet of 4 blade wielding individuals flank us from the other side. 

 

I hit my ax against my shield and roar into the oncoming enemy. The moonlight dancing off their daggers they surround us in a taunting circle. I wait for one to strike but they merely run around us, holding us here. Finally a man steps forward in deep red robes tightly wrapped around him. He pushes his hand up to halt the rest then his dark eyes penetrate mine. I scowl.

 

“Just some children,” his voice is low, “take them.” He turns on his heel as the circle tightens around us. Ishri manages to stab a dagger in one before her head is engulfed in a bag. I thrash my ax in a powerful arc but am hit from behind. My vision blurs and I'm overwhelmed with the smell of rotten vegetables from the bag over my face before everything goes dark. 

 

~~~~~~~

 

“Shh,” a dirty hand is over my mouth. A hooded head comes to view and I grimace from my throbbing head. My arm is hoisted over his shoulder as he pulls me to my feet. With a graceful caution he moves us forward. My muscles tense in resistance and his grey eyes are hard on mine, his lips pursed, warning me to be silent. He throws his chin to the side directing me to the sleeping men just ahead. Behind us my guard is unconscious, slumped against the wall. We snake closely to the wall until we disappear under the earthen stairs of a corridor. From the distinct smell and soggy ground I discern we are in the sewers of Lowtown. Nolan pulls us toward a wall and touching it in three places with his forefinger the stone separates revealing a dark corridor within. Once inside he turns a wooden lever returning the wall to its original state. 

 

“We are safe here,” he guides me to the ground against a pillar. 

 

I glare at him, “where is Ishri?”

 

Nolan’s soft boot taps at the floor, testing the sound as he answers, “I saw the Sharps come on you, but when I infiltrated this camp you were the only captive.” His face is free of deceit and I find myself trusting his testimony. 

 

“Could they have taken her somewhere else? And why can't I move?” I demand.

 

He grins as his toe tap rings hollow, “they threw a concussion grenade at the back of your head just before they tied you up, it'll wear off in a few hours.”

 

“I don't have a few hours!” I fight against my numb limbs only to increase in frustration as they refuse to move.

 

“It's out of your control, no reason to get all worked up,” he pulls a small plank from the floor. Inside is a crate. “Hungry?” He pulls out a small box.

 

“What is this your home or something?”

 

“Oh no, it's an old smuggler's route, we use it as a refuge in case we have to hide out. Top secret, in hindsight I should have blindfolded you,” his eyes are back to their annoying playfulness. “So how is it I'm always finding you tied up?”

 

“You should have just left me, then I wouldn't have to put up with this,” I retort, frowning. 

 

He smirks and brings a waterskin to my mouth, I turn away and he places his hand on my cheek to stop me, “don't be stubborn just take the water.”

 

I can't deny my thirst and accept the offer. I sit in irritated silence refusing to entertain him with conversation. 

 

“By the way, I have a no sulking policy for people I rescue,” he sits cross legged in front of me, “you don't have to talk, but no sulking.” 

 

“Why did you follow us?” I demand with sharp accusation. 

 

He taps his finger on his boot, “no particular reason, I was sent by my employer to find out what was delaying some merchandise. At first I thought it might be you, but after watching you wait for a couple of hours I knew we were both being played by another party.” He moves his head to the side as if to get a different angle of me, “who sent your invite?”

 

“I'm not telling you shit.” 

 

“Strong silent type then? I like it,” he mercilessly flirts. “Well what if I told you I would help you find your friend, could I get a smile?” I respond with a seething glare. Unaffected he continues, “you strike a hard bargain, a tiny grin then? A smidge of a smirk? I'm flexible.”

 

I groan. “If you know something stop toying and just spit it out.”

 

“I'm not promising anything, I wish I could, but my guess is we both stumbled on something we weren't suppose to. Let me guess, you got a tip that a nuisance to business needed dealt with? We did too, my- one of mine is missing too, and I bet 5 sovereigns they can be found together, but truth be told I could use some help. So, temporary truce?” He holds out his hand and slides it into a handshake with my limp fingers, “since you won’t speak, just blink twice for yes, then you can go back to hating me in silence.”

 

My eyes bore into his hand on mine, frustrated I cannot pull it away. Trapped I answer coldly, “fine.”

 

“Perfect,” he folds back his hood. “Now, how shall we pass the time? How about a game of charades? You first!”

 

“Do you get off on pissing me off or something?” I answer dryly.

 

His dark curls bounce with his amused head shake, “only a little,” his smile gleams. My lip turns to a snarl and he puts his hands up, “ok, ok, I’ll try to just be silent for your sake,” but then his eyes dance as if he outwitted a street game master, “if you tell me your name.”

 

“Nunya Bizness,” I roll my eyes with my answer.

 

“Ha!” he slumps against the beam across from me, “so you DO have a sense of humor under all that anger chiseled armor.”

 

Determined to have a chance at peace I sigh and answer, “fine, Rene...just Rene.”

 

“Ok ‘fine Rene, just Rene,’ I’ll take it.”

 

After a few moments of welcome silence my mind drifts to Ishri, if she wasn’t taken with me where did they take her?  Nolan idly taps his thumbs on his knees, the weight of his eyes further irritating me with each thump.

 

“WHAT?” I growl.

 

“Even scowling you are rather pretty, did you know that?” his ardent eyes linger on me.

 

My chest flutters at the unexpected compliment then flares in anger, “try anything and I will rip your throat out with my teeth,” I threaten.

 

His grin widens, “Promise?” My anger remains poignant so he adds quietly, “listen Rene, I give you my word, for what it’s worth, that I won’t do anything without your permission.” My fingers painfully curl upward fighting to form a fist. His eyes jolt to the movement, excited he exclaims, “Looks like it’s starting to wear off! That's amazing, usually takes at least an hour to make that kind of progress.”

 

“Just tell me your plan,” I say flatly, straining to wiggle my toes, “to find our people.”

 

“Simple,” he moves to squat over my foot, his hands massage my calf, the gentle motion helps escort feeling back into my foot, “we follow breadcrumbs.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

Nolan scans the area with caution as he holds his hand up to pause me, he wraps his head around the corner then flicks his fingers for me to follow. We come to a series of lean to’s in a remote alleyway. None of the beggars or squalor of the undercity appear to take notice of us. Confident we haven't been followed he smiles, “welcome to my humble abode.” I squint my eyes over the series of shacks and he chuckles, “I know it's prime Darktown real estate, I'm one of the lucky ones to actually have a door!” He presses his finger with enthusiasm on the molded slab of wood encouraging it to move, demonstrating his claim. 

 

“Why are we here?” I ask, I’ve been able to walk but my limbs are still tingling awake.

 

He waves his arm in a graceful gesture for me to enter ahead of him, “they stripped all your gear, if we are going to set up a rescue you're gonna need some things.”

 

Inside the hovel smells of dank wood and moist earth, beside a small table is a cot in the far corner of the tiny room. Nolan unlocks a trunk under it and produces a worn coat of plates. 

 

“You are taller than my older brother but I think this will work,” he offers it to me then turns back to the trunk to fish out a small buckler and what I suspect is an ax wrapped in soft cloth.

 

“He won't mind if I take these?” I ask pulling the the leather straps tight on my shoulders.

 

He touches the metal on my shoulder as if dusting it off and answers casually, “no, he's dead.”

 

“Oh,” my hands pause fastening the cords at my side. 

 

His mouth turns at the corner in a nostalgic grin, “just couldn't sell it, I think it suits you though. It's better that it's used then rusting away under my bed.” 

 

Unaccustomed to such blatant kindness I confirm, “I'll pay you for it.”

 

His face reflects a pang of hurt as he unwraps the ax, “no Rene, that's not how a gift works.”

 

“You don't even know me,” I argue, “you must want something, everyone wants something.”

 

“I want us both to get our people back,” he holds out the ax, formidable and heavy, “this was my father’s, he got it from a shop in Denerim, it's Dwarven made.”

 

With reluctance I take it, “another gift?”

 

He smiles, deepening the dimples in his cheeks, “no sorry, this one is only borrowed, so you have to come back and return it when this is all over.” 

 

I roll my eyes and slide the weapon into my belt. 


End file.
